Black Blood
by Rubyclaw
Summary: Cairo Vincent, a young but wealthy American business man, summons a demon to seek revenge for past wrongs. Raven Michaelis might not have been anything like what he was expecting, but she gets the job done, and her parentage certainly speaks for itself.
1. The Summoning (pilot)

**From the Journal of Cairo Vincent**

**February 23, 2010**

It was a chilly, fog-covered night when I first met my bodyguard Raven. Raven appears to others to be just another teenager, but I know better. Raven is sharp and sarcastic and bloodthirsty and cruel. Raven Michaelis is a demon. But let's not jump ahead of ourselves here. I should at least allow you to meet _me_ first.

I am Cairo Vincent. My father invented the machine that puts the plastic around toothpicks, so naturally my family is filthy rich. Well... I say "my family"... really I mean me. Just me.

When both of my parents died in a car accident three years ago, leaving the fortune, the company, and everything else to me, it seemed to be the scandal of the century – a fourteen-year-old boy suddenly the wealthiest CEO in America? Ridiculous. No one thought I could do it. They were wrong. I turned my father's company into the biggest corporation since Carnegie Steel. But anyway, as I was saying.

The night I first met Raven was bitter cold and misty; the fog clung to your skin and clothes and chilled you to the bone. I fancied that it felt like the fingers of Death pulling me through the Styx to the other side. I have a dark imagination. I had a business meeting that was running itself into the ground around eleven o'clock when I got a text message: "We found it. It's here." Immediately I called an end to the monotony, wrapped my black wool coat about my shoulders, and set out into the great sea of fog. My mansion was about two miles away from the corporate building, but I still preferred to walk. Walking gave me time to think. A certain mental clarity can only be reached when alone in the silent fog.

My doorman greeted me as soon as I reached the mansion. "The package you've ordered arrived," he told me, "I had it sent to the lounge in the basement."

"Thank you," I answered, stepping inside and heading down the stairs. The lounge was dimly lit and hazy – the perfect place for this sort of thing. A circular poker table sat ominously in the middle of the room, and Gabe was standing to the side of it, waiting for me. Gabe was my all-around strong man – guarding, lifting, yardwork... he did it all.

"Nearly broke my back, but I got it down here for ya," he told me. "Doorman told me how much you paid for this thing. Seems like an awful lot for just a poker table."

"Yes, but this particular poker table has a peculiar urban legend surrounding it that's dated back to the nineteen-eighties, and even before. Story's told that this table can be used to summon a demon, and that demon will grant you anything you desire. For the right price, of course."

"Well, now, wait – you aren't gonna try it, are you?"

"Of course I am. Why else would I spend all that money and effort to track it down and obtain it?"

Gabe sighed fearfully and said, "Whatever you say, Boss." He backed away from the table and me full access to it. I took a deck of playing cards from my coat pocket and spread them out on the table so that they formed a pentagram – all of them, save the queen of spades, which I placed in the center of the symbol. Drawing a small pocket knife, I pricked the index finger of my left hand, and let fall a single drop of blood onto the center of the queen. I stood back for a minute, but nothing happened.

"Go on then," I enticed, agitated. "Show yourself!" I stood in silence for a bit longer. The clock in the room chimed twelve. I noticed that the blood on the card began to expand and darkened to a deep black color. It spread to all the other cards on the table, and soon began overflowing over the table's edges, flowing along the floor, crawling up the walls, snaking across the ceiling, and for an eternal moment couldn't see anything; the room was as black as death. Then the edges of the table began to burn with high red-orange flames, and I could just barely make out a black... something... at the center of the flames. It looked like the gnarled branches of a small, dead tree, with the silhouette of something like a bat hanging off the lowest branch. I could see the bat's eyes glowing red in the fire.

"Are you the one who summoned me?" came a woman's voice, thick and rich like dark chocolate syrup.

"I am," I replied confidently, despite being scared out of my balls.

"I hope you realize, child, that this is not a game," the voice warned. "Heaven's gates close forever to anyone who deals with demons."

"Heaven isn't real," I answered with a snicker. "It's a story to make children behave."

She replied with wicked amusement: "Stupid. I like you. You wish to make a contract?"

"Yes. I presume the deal will be my soul for anything I wish?"

"Yes. What do you wish, fool?"

"Vengeance. I was taken off the street as a young child and sold for a slave. I was viciously abused in every way possible. I want to find the ones responsible and put them through hell." After she heard this, the figure in the fire changed. I saw now the tall, lean silhouette of a young woman with long hair. She had the same glowing eyes as the bat.

"It was your blood that summoned me?" she questioned. I nodded. "I can smell that you're still bleeding. Might I have a taste?" Nervously, I held out my bleeding left hand to her. I let out a surprised cry when her arm shot out and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling my arm into the ring of fire with her. My arm was in the fire, but it did not burn. I saw her long, black tongue slowly scrape over my finger. It seemed as though every muscle in her body relaxed from the taste, so I tried to pull my arm back, but she grasped it tighter as she started laughing: a terrifying sound that shook her whole body. "You've got a deal, blondie," she agreed, ripping the sleeve of my shirt to reveal the white skin of my inner forearm. She placed her other hand across it, and I felt a horrible pain like a brand being seared into me. She released me, and I fell backwards holding my arm. The fire suddenly vanished, and the room went dark.

The dull overhead lights flickered back on in a few moments as if nothing had ever happened. My arm didn't hurt anymore. I looked at it. There was a red, black and white pentagram mark like a tatoo on my skin that almost reminded me of a dartboard. I looked up and gazed around the room. And actually, the whole room looked as if nothing had ever happened. Except for one thing: Standing in the center of the poker table was what could only be described as the closest thing to the exact opposite of what I had expected.

She looked like a teenager about my age; tall and lean, she stood with her thumb in her pocket, supporting all her weight on the opposite hip. Her straight, golden-blonde hair was parted down the middle, with ink-black hair dye streaked into it. Her blood-red eyes glared into mine, glowing with pompous superiority as she sneered with her ruby lips. The next thing I noticed was black leather – and lots of it. Over her red, high-necked t-shirt she wore a black leather jacket, and the tight pants her thumb was stuck into were black leather as well. Black leather combat boots covered her feet, and black leather fingerless gloves revealed dark black fingernails. She also had a black fishnet blouse on over the shirt, and she wore three belts around her waist: a plain red leather one, a black one covered in big silver studs, and a chainlink one, all at different angles but joined by a skull-shaped buckle. However, the black leather was definitely the most striking element of her ensemble. She was beautiful and deadly, like a snake – the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

"So," she spoke at last, her voice higher but still rich and smooth: "Who 'm I killin'?" She gracefully jumped off the table and stood before me.

"I... well..." I stuttered. I've never been the best around girls. "No one, really..."

"Huh? But you said..."

"I don't want you to kill them. Just find them. Capture them. Maybe torture them a bit. But when the time comes to finish them off, all I want you to do is hold them down while I slit their throats. I want to kill them myself." She looked at me for a moment, surprised, and then smiled.

"I _knew_ I liked you."

**Author's Note: I'm using this segment as a sort of "pilot episode" for an idea I've had. This means that if you liked the idea, you NEED to tell me that somehow (review, PM, follow, favorite, etc.) because if you don't, then I'm never finishing it. Ever. I'm not going to write this if no one likes it. I just don't have the time. Like I said, this is just the semblance of an idea. Things like format, minor characters, plot, etc. are in flux and might change. This is just to give you a look at what I'm thinking and a chance for feedback.**

**Just to repeat: If no one lets me know how they feel about this story, it ends here. So tell me if you like it. Tell me if you think it's shit. Just tell me ****_something._**


	2. That Bodyguard: Snide

**Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Just know, I _do _plan on continuing this for all of those who spent their time on this story, to whom I am grateful. There's going to be a little experimenting with the format, because I don't know if I like the journal format better or the third-person format better, or if I would rather awkwardly straddle between the two of them like I did in this chapter. Meanwhile, enjoy, and _please_ let me know what you think!**

The blond-haired bodyguard opened the curtain of her master's bedroom, letting the sunlight shine in. "Eight-thirty, Cairo," she told him. "Time to get up. We have a busy day today." Cairo didn't respond. His white comforter was pulled up over his head so that only a few pieces of his light blond hair poked out of it to indicate his presence. The bodyguard's eyes narrowed. "I said get up, bitch!" she shouted, grabbing the blanket and yanking it hard. Cairo tumbled out of bed onto the floor with a startled exclamation.

"Can you _not_ wake me up like this?" he muttered sleepily, disgruntled.

"I won't if you actually _wake up_ the first time I ask."

"What was wrong with having a normal alarm clock, again?"

"You'll just hit the snooze button and go back to sleep."

"Naturally," Cairo sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his pale blue eyes.

"There's a fresh suit for you in the closet. I expect you to be dressed in a timely fashion so we can discuss today's schedule." She began to leave the room.

"Raven, wait!" Cairo interrupted as she was closing the door. "Aren't you going to help me?"

"You aren't a baby, are you?" Raven replied pointedly. "Dress yourself." She shut the door, but opened it a few seconds later: "And if you crawl back into that bed I swear to God –" She shut the door again, leaving the threat open ended. Cairo could hear her combat boots clomp down the hallway away from his room. He sighed again.

_This is what I get,_ he thought to himself with only a hint of regret. _I summoned a demon, and this is what I get._ He picked himself off of the floor and began to get dressed, looking out the window over the fog-covered city.

* * *

"Raven?" Cairo asked, stepping out of his room with his gray jacket over his arm and his untied tie hanging around his neck.

"Yes?" Raven answered from behind him. He jumped and shouted before he recognized her and recomposed himself.

"I... Can you tie this for me?" Raven sighed.

"Seriously?" She then proceeded to tie his tie. "It's not even that hard."

"I know, I just... But anyway, the schedule?"

"College classes from nine-thirty to twelve. Lunch. Business meeting until six. Dinner. Then you're open until ten-thirty when one of your associates plans to meet you at the nightclub."

"Great... Oh well, at least I'll have a few hours to myself."

"Breakfast is waiting for you in the dining hall, and your instructors will meet you in the lounge."

"Thank you." He kept walking toward the dining hall, and Raven continued to follow him. "I don't need you to come to class with me, Raven."

"But what if something happens?" she asked him coldly.

"Then I'll scream bloody murder and expect you to come running," Cairo answered with a sarcastic smile. "Look, I'll be fine. You don't actually have to pretend that you _care._" Raven gave him a stony glare. "Just... meet up with me after dinner. In the mean time... I don't know... Take care of business or something."

"Yes, Master."

"And I keep telling you, don't call me 'master.' This is the twenty-first century, after all."

"I apologize, Master. Would you rather I called you 'shit-head,' 'cause you sure act like one."

"'Master' is fine..." Cairo sighed. "Just meet me in my study after dinner, ok?" Raven nodded and left.

* * *

Cairo sat down at the desk in his study and sighed. It had been a long, boring, eventless day, and he was tired. But now the sun was setting, and now the fun could begin.

"Raven?" he called after his body guard.

"Yes Master?" her voice replied directly to the left of him. She wasn't there thirty seconds ago. Cairo jumped and shouted.

"Jesus! Raven, you're going to give me a heart attack if you keep doing that!"

"Whatever."

"Anyways, I want you to escort me to my meeting tonight."

"The one at the nightclub?" Raven asked. Cairo nodded. Raven dropped her shoulders, immediately disheartened. "So the place will be full of people and loud, terrible music?"

"Most likely," Cairo answered. Raven whined loudly. People and terrible music were the two things she hated most. "Look, I don't care how miserable you'll be. This man is dangerous and I'm sure as hell not going alone. Unless you want to lose the contract." She still seemed unwilling. "I'll let you bring your headphones," he enticed her.

"Fiiiiiiiiine," she conceded. "But I won't like it."

"Look at my face, and tell me how much you think I care."

"Sassy today, huh?" Raven replied with a snide smile.

"Whatever. You're sassy everyday."

"Anyways, which 'associate' is it for today?"

"The arms dealer."

"Of course."

* * *

"_I absolutely require you to come with me on this one," Cairo had told his demon on her second day of work._

"_Why? It's just a dumb old business meeting," she replied, snide as ever._

"_Yes, well, the type of business this 'associate' engages in tends to get people killed or worse."_

"_Damn..."_

"_Not too much for you, I hope?" Cairo jeered, smiling._

"_Don't be stupid. I just didn't expect that a little blond bitch like you would've gotten himself tangled up in that sort of thing."_

"_Appearances can be deceiving. I think we both know that quite well. Besides, toothpick machines could never have paid for all this."_

* * *

**February 28, 2010**

Yesterday I got kidnapped again. I had scheduled a meeting with a certain black market arms dealer for ten-thirty that night. I wasn't exactly expecting everything to go all according to plan, but I thought that having Raven there would stop anything before it started. But anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Raven pulled up to the door on her motorcycle – it was black, with red flames painted on the side – handed me my helmet, and we were off. Normally I wouldn't even bother with a helmet, but she insists. "Look, I don't put up with your shit so you can bust your head open on the sidewalk and lose your soul to some Goddamn reaper." I didn't really know what she was talking about, but I also didn't care enough to order her to let me ride without one, so I grumbled a little and accepted. Raven doesn't really seem to understand that I'm _her_ boss, not the other way around. But whatever. At least she _does_ seem to be interested in completing my objective, so I put up with her.

Anyhow, we rode off to the nightclub where my associate had agreed to meet us for a "business proposal." By which I mean, he wanted to sell questionably obtained weapons. Which I would then resell legitimately or on the black market for a higher price than his. Simple business, and I can always pretend I don't know anything if the law gets involved.

The nightclub was like a giant heart of the city. It pulsed with people and beat with the rhythm of music so loud that I could feel my pants vibrating as Raven and I walked up to the doors. Raven, as soon as the sound hit her ears, cringed, ducked into her black, noise-canceling headphones, and turned on her music. She relaxed visibly as Queen or Joan Jett or some other 70's or 80's rock voice poured into her ears. I gave the bouncer a hundred-dollar bill so he'd let me in without checking my ID, and we walked into the club.

I don't feel like I need to go into details on what it was like in there. Loud. Filled with drunk people. Smelled a little bit like body odor. The basics. I caught sight of my associate sitting at a corner booth in the back and began to move over to him, signaling to Raven to follow me. I sat down across from him, and he immediately began eyeing Raven nervously.

"Raven is my new bodyguard," I explained, remembering that my associate had not met her yet. "I apologize for not warning you that she'd be coming."

"Sure she won't rat us out?" he asked me nervously.

"I don't think she'd care enough. Besides, when she's listening to her music she can't hear anything else." He didn't seem reassured, so I decided to have a little fun. I turned to Raven and looked her dead in the eye: "Raven, I'm desperately in love with you. I demand that we leave right now and get married immediately." She didn't respond, or show any indication that she had even realized that I had been talking to her. "See? She can't hear a word."

"Still..." he muttered uneasily. I sighed and waved Raven off. She went and leaned against a wall, closing her eyes to listen to her music better.

"So, what have you got for me today?" I asked.

"Something special. Fully automatic," he answered.

"No. I'm not carrying that. The authorities are breathing down my neck enough as it is."

"Oh come on! You've got to give me something!"

"Well, that's too bad. I can't afford a lawsuit. You'll have to take your business elsewhere." I took a sip from my drink. He smiled, and I immediately felt unsafe.

"Looks like I might get some business out of you after all," he smirked, and I began to feel dizzy. That's when I remembered: I hadn't ordered a drink. _Raven is going to punch me for being this stupid..._ I thought hazily, slowly losing my grip on this world. _Raven... _I tried to whisper, staring at the demon. The last thing I remember seeing was the image of Raven, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, not noticing or giving a damn about anything else. I blacked out.


	3. That Bodyguard: Ironic

**February 28, 2010 (cont.)**

When I came to, I was sitting on hard asphalt with a gag in my mouth and tough rope tightly tying my hands behind my back. My head hurt like crazy, and my eyes hadn't adjusted to the low light.

"He's awake," a man's voice remarked, probably referring to me.

"Great," another replied. "Let's take a look at what we got." I felt the gag get pulled from my mouth, and I coughed and gasped, grateful for the air. My vision finally cleared, and I saw two men standing over me. I didn't recognize them, but I knew exactly what they were: traffickers.

"He's a pretty one," the first voice said again, belonging to one of the two men in front of me. "We'll get a load off of him." I panicked, and completely lost my composure.

"Raven!" I screamed, "_Raven come get me right now!" _One of the men smacked me across the face hard.

"Shut up!" he shouted at me. Falling into a state of mind I thought I had forgotten long ago, I obeyed, silencing myself while I fought the memories of my past.

"Who's Raven?" the other man jeered. "Your sister? Your _girlfriend?_ Whoever she is, she ain't coming to rescue you, _princess._" Both men laughed at me. I didn't really notice. I was terrified. What if she couldn't hear me? What if she could hear me, but she didn't _care?_ I knew _exactly_ what would become of me if she didn't listen – if she didn't come. It was an experience I _never_ wanted to repeat. Hesitantly, I surveyed my surroundings. I was in a dead-end alley, and there were other guys watching the only way out. I had no chance of getting out of the situation on my own. _Raven, please come soon..._ I thought, silently hoping for my salvation.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the nightclub, Raven had been allowing the pounding beat of sweet rock 'n' roll to numb her awareness of everything surrounding her, when suddenly she felt the contract symbol on her left hand burn and prickle. _Raven!_ she heard Cairo scream in her mind, his voice filled with terror. _Raven come get me right now!_ She sighed and rolled her eyes, disappointed that he had gotten into trouble this quickly. She stood up straight, and began to head for the door, the music from her headphones still pounding in her ears. She noticed a proximity breach as one of the drunk males in the room made a reach for her ass to cop a feel. She immediately intercepted, grabbing his wrist and glaring at him, squeezing until she felt the bones in his arm crack into pieces.

"Don't you _ever_ try that again," she growled, releasing him and continuing on. She had far more interesting prey on her mind.

She followed the pull of her contract to an alleyway several blocks down the road from the club, grateful to be out of that horrible, suffocating environment. When she reached the alley, two male humans stepped out from the shadowy corner of the entryway and shouted something at her, threatening her with guns. She couldn't hear what they said because of her music, but it wasn't as though she cared. Just then, her music paused as her mp3 player finished the track it had been playing and started the next one. Recognizing the beat, she smiled an amused, ironic smile. She continued walking, timing her steps to underlying beat of the music: beat, beat, beat. Rest. Another one bites the dust. The men moved to halt her progress but she dealt with them easily, disarming them on the first two beats, breaking their necks on the third, letting them drop on the rest. Another one bites the dust. She continued walking as Freddie Mercury's musical voice poured into her ears:

_Steve walks warily down the street_

_With the brim pulled way down low._

_Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,_

_Machine guns ready to go._

More men came out of the shadows to face her, each of them looking at her down the barrel of a gun. She knew they were trying to keep her away from Cairo.

_Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?_

_Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?_

_Out of the doorway the bullets rip_

_To the sound of the beat_

There was no hesitation in any of the humans' eyes: They were undoubtedly going to try and kill her. She smiled. Perhaps this would be more fun than she had originally thought. She whispered under her breath, in time with the voice of old:

"Another one bites the dust."

* * *

**February 28, 2010 (cont.)**

I was wrestling the horrors in my mind and praying to God or Raven or whoever would listen, when I heard a commotion and looked up. The men who were holding me captive were running about, shouting something about an intruder. I crossed my fingers and held my breath, hoping that it was the rescuer I was looking for. Suddenly, a female figure in black melted out of the shadows, and all the men stopped to look at her, like they were in a trance. I saw short, straight, blonde hair, and the cold eyes of a demon. Purple eyes. The demon was _not_ Raven. She approached me with deadly seduction in those strange purple eyes, and I swallowed. Raven had mentioned that rival demons often attempt to steal each other's meals, but I didn't think I would _actually_ have attracted the attention of another demon this quickly. She was almost upon me, when suddenly there was a crash, and all of the men holding me captive snapped out of the demon's trance. Startled and annoyed, the she-demon in front of me dropped to all fours and simultaneously transformed into a small black cat, darting away into the night as if she had never been there in the first place. The traffickers didn't seem to have noticed her at all. They had a bigger problem: One of the men towards the entryway of the alley had just gotten tossed clear to the wall at my back, dropping down unconscious, and standing behind where he had stood was a teenage girl, with black-streaked blonde hair, headphones, and black leather clothes.

Raven, _my_ Raven, had finally arrived.

She fought like a monster, savage and cruel; and yet, her motion was so refined it almost seemed choreographed, her steps falling perfectly to the beat of music that I could not hear. Then it struck me: Her headphones were still on. She was using the rhythm of the music to time her moves. That's when I caught her lips mouthing out the words to the song: _Another one bites the dust._ Just like her to be cheeky at a time like this. The men had surrounded her, but naturally she didn't seem to care. I saw two men come at her from opposite directions, and she cracked their skulls together just as another man fired his gun. In an instant she had whipped out her pocket switchblade and _cut the bullet in half_, its two pieces falling harmlessly at her sides.

I could almost imagine the beat of Queen's song in my head just from watching her. The man directly in front of her who had tried to shoot her fired three more shots; she caught each bullet in time with the three beats and threw them back, killing him and the two men on either side of him on the rest. Another one bites the dust. Two more guys on my side of the circle rushed towards her. She grabbed their shoulders on the first beat, whiplashed them in the same direction they had originally been running on the second, and they crashed into opposite walls on the third, falling to the ground on the rest. There were three men left standing behind her, two of which rushed to try and surprise her from behind. She spun in a full circle, blindingly fast, cutting their throats and killing them, all still in perfect synchronization with the classic beat. I saw her mouthing the words to the song: _And another one's gone. And another one's gone. _The third man, who had rushed only slightly after the first two, and seemed to be regretting his decision, was grabbed by his shoulder and flipped over Raven onto the ground in front of her, her leather combat boot coming down on his throat and crushing his windpipe. _And another one bites the dust._

Only the two men on either side of me were left alive (or at least, not viciously injured to the threshold of death itself) – and by the way her eyes glowed when she approached us, they were not far behind the others. The man to my left tried to run.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you too," Raven whispered, barely audible, flinging her switchblade so that it buried itself in the man's forehead, right between the eyes, before he could even take a step. "Another one bites the dust."

"Raven," I ordered, "take those damn things off." She rolled her eyes but obeyed, pulling the headphones down around her neck. The man next to me shivered, in terror, his hands barely able to grip the gun he was holding. She seemed to give off a fiery, red glow, and the places she walked left scorched, glowing footprints in the street. In a panic, the man fired three shots. The first two didn't come close, but the third hit Raven straight in the middle of her forehead. She didn't make a sound, or fall backwards; she only paused for a moment, reached up to the hole in her head, and – I kid you not – she _reached into the wound_ with two fingers, _pulled the bullet out_, and dropped it casually on the ground in front of her, a mad smile twisting its way across her face all the while. The man dropped his gun.

"Wh-what do you want?" he stammered out to her, the pitch of his voice turned high with fear. "You want the kid? Take him – he's yours!" He used a pocket knife to cut through the rope that bound my hands.

"It's about damn time you got here," I chastised her, rubbing my wrists. "And where the hell _were you_ when they were dragging me out of the club?"

"You never told me to stop them," she answered simply, the wound on her forehead closing noticeably. I would have chastised her further, but I caught sight of the lone survivor trying to sneak away. "Catch him, Raven," I ordered. "But don't kill him yet." She had him in her grasp in an instant.

"Look, look, you can go, a'right?!" He protested, struggling in vain. "What do you want from me?" Raven threw him on the ground at my feet.

"I want your sorry-ass excuse for a life," I growled, furious. "People like you make me sick – traffickers!"

"Look, look..." he began, trying to explain himself, "I'm just... you know, a middleman. I never actually –"

"Silence! You're wasting air. Enabling such a crime is just as sick as committing it. Raven?"

"Yes, master?"

"I'm tired of looking at this waste of space. Kill him." He scrambled to his feet to try and run, but Raven was already there in front of him, the hellfire burning hotter on her skin, clothes and eyes.

"What are you?" he murmured, resigned to his terror. Her eyes glowed wickedly, and she smiled.

"A demon-spawned bitch from Hell."


End file.
